


Happiness

by yorkybar (Kymethra)



Series: The Reason [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-07
Updated: 2005-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8181689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymethra/pseuds/yorkybar
Summary: Sequel to The Reason.  Harry looks for what he lost.





	

When he thought about it, and he paused to think about it quite a bit, Draco considered himself to be coping extremely well hiding incognito in the muggle world. He thought about it a lot in an effort not to think about why he was hiding incognito in the muggle world. And as the weeks turned into months, what had started out as derision grew into respect for the non-magical people. He became impressed with the ingenious ways they’d come up with to get around those little problems that a wizard could handle with a simple flick of the wand. Lifts, for example. Admittedly they weren’t always quick, and could become stuffy, and Draco had once had the misfortune to get stuck in one when it broke down, but they got the job done. The constant threat of things breaking was the one thing that constantly irritated him though. And there were many times when he surreptitiously got out his wand to fix something. Of course, nobody noticed. They simply weren’t looking to see a young man using what looked very much like a bit of polished wood to get something done. And anyway, even if they had noticed, being English those that were looking were unlikely to remark on such a thing. It was this national trait that Draco enjoyed most. Everyone minded their own business (when public, that is, amongst friends they talked about other people as much as anybody else, but you never aired your dirty laundry in public, as the saying went). You could get away with an awful lot if you didn’t make a fuss about what you were doing, and while people might notice strange behaviour, they didn’t think it their place to interrupt and stick their noses into what was nothing to do with them.

He’d found himself a flat in a nice building, not too far from the muggle transport system, and having managed to get his money out of Gringotts and exchanged for pounds and pence, discovered to his delight that he was not only rich in the wizarding world, but also amongst the muggles. The most disrupting part of it all was having to feed himself. No matter where he’d been during his (comparatively, when you think about Dumbledore) short life, food had always just been available when he wanted it. Good, nutritious, delicious food. The first inkling of suspicious arose when he saw the kitchen in his flat. With lots of what, he was told, were ‘appliances’. Obviously, trying to live incognito, Draco didn’t humble himself by asking what they were for, he’d already received a strange enough look when he’d given his name – you’d think nobody in the muggle world was called Draco by the expression on the woman’s face! 

‘Of course, if you don’t fancy messing around in the kitchen, there’s plenty of restaurants and fast-food outlets just across the park on the main street.’ The same woman remarked when she saw the look of dismay on his face at the prospect of feeding himself. Draco liked the sound of ‘fast-food’; it sounded much more like what he was used to.

To cut a long story short, within a week, the local pizza shop knew his favourites and knew what time he’d be calling in every day. And then one day, Michael, who often chatted to the mysterious young man, jokingly remarked that Draco spent so much time and money there, he should apply for a job and get paid for his time. Working was something that had never crossed Draco’s mind. Of course, there was no need for it to cross his mind. He’d been brought up in the lap of luxury, and menial labour was not included in that lap. However, he had noticed a worrying drop in his social life recently – no longer was he the centre of the Slytherin world (he would have like to have been the centre of the whole world, but when it came to wizards, that place had been occupied by a certain dark haired schoolmate of his that he was trying very hard not to think about), and so his party invitations had dropped to a startling zero. And so it was, on a momentous Wednesday afternoon, that Draco Malfoy, in an effort to continue appearing every inch the ordinary muggle, took a job working in a Pizza shop. It wasn’t the best job in the world (although Draco, having never had any other job, was in no position to make comparisons) but it was good fun and Draco was soon going down to the pub after work with Michael, his girlfriend, Rebecca, and their friends from university. They were all a little older than him, but didn’t seem to mind and when he didn’t talk much about himself just assumed he was shy.

And one day, Draco realised he was happy. Actually, he realised the day after, when he woke up in the morning and thought about the previous day, as he was prone to do, usually grimacing at the wasted time he’d spent not thinking about black hair and green eyes, he didn’t remember having had to avoid the thoughts at all. He’d made it through a whole day. He would never have admitted it to himself but he had harboured secret desires that Harry would come rushing to find him after receiving his letter on their last day at Hogwarts. He’d spent weeks wondering if he should go out, just in case he missed the doorbell ringing, and he’d then spent weeks going out as much as possible (even before he had people to go out with), embittered because the doorbell hadn’t rung. And so to have managed a whole day reassured Draco that he was finally overcoming what he referred to, in his head, as ‘that time I lost my head’. It wasn’t that he regretted what he felt, but he was beginning to regret ever sending Harry a letter telling him how he felt, because in his heart he’d though maybe the other boy had felt the same. Only for it to become patently clear that he didn’t. Now, though, Draco finally believed he was getting past it all. And he thought for the first time that maybe things would be ok.

 

Every few months, Harry would take out the letter he had received from Draco on his last day at Hogwarts. Since that day, he and everyone he knew had not heard a thing from the son of Lucius Malfoy. They had, however, heard plenty about him – his disappearance had acted simply to confirm what many members of the public had previously only suspected. That he had followed in his father’s footsteps down a path towards the Dark Lord. Reading the many damning stories published by the Daily Prophet was very difficult for Harry, knowing the real story of how it had been Draco’s courage that had brought about the final battle, he felt like he was the one back under the Prophet’s microscope. Harry got angry on Draco’s behalf, since he wasn’t here to do it himself. It certainly didn’t help that his friends discussed each and every story as if Draco had already been found guilty. Of course, they would never understand if he turned around one day and told them to stop. Then he would have to start explaining why, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to do that. They wouldn’t know how what he had always assumed simply to be intense dislike, if not hate, all through school, had turned into a softer emotion in the months after leaving Hogwarts. One he couldn’t give a name to. At least, it was a softer emotion most of the time. Sometimes Harry would just get really mad at Draco for being a coward and running away and not ever telling him about what he was thinking. When he was feeling like this, he ignored the common sense part of his brain that informed him that if Draco ever had come to him and confessed such feelings, he would probably have been very cruel. That wasn’t something he was willing to face up to right now.

Harry had taken a desk job rather than looking for something more exciting to fill his days with. He figured that he had had enough adventures in his early years to last him a lifetime, and he was in no great hurry to look for more. A quiet life, he told himself, would suit him down to the ground (his friends suspected that he was just kidding himself, but understood that Harry just wanted to experience normality). But whatever he did, there was always a little part of him that wondered what would have happened if he had gone after Draco as soon as he had read his letter. Would the Slytherin have been happy to see him? Harry rather suspected that the blonde boy would not have written such a letter had he suspected that he would see Harry again (which just goes to show that you never know everything and you shouldn’t assume that you know what someone else is thinking).

He no longer needed to take the letter out to recall its contents, having read it so many times since it was first delivered. There was a preservation spell that he’d used on letters from Sirius that he had cast over the parchment and, along with the letters from his godfather, Draco’s letter would now last forever and wouldn’t be destroyed by Harry’s constant handling of his only reminder of what might have been. At first he was just in shock from the immense sense of loss he felt to even begin contemplating what he actually felt regarding Draco as a person. He blamed himself for never truly noticing Draco, for taking his presence for granted, even though it was a presence he would gladly have sacrificed had he been forced to before that fateful last day of school.

He mused over how gaining new knowledge can totally disrupt your perspective on past events. He spent many hours running his encounters with Draco over the years through his mind, but would always come back to the night of the celebratory feast in the Great Hall and the moment when he caught Draco’s eye. 

Or maybe Draco caught his.

Or maybe they caught each other.

Seeking each other out through a sea of people. Harry knew now that that was the one time Draco had really shown who him who he was, only Harry had been too blind to notice. Still, despite not knowing what he was being shown, that one look had wormed its way into his soul and wouldn’t let go. It was in his dreams at night, and he would wake up in the morning still able to picture those silver eyes. He had held eye contact with Draco many times before that night, in a battle of wills that had become as much a part of school as Quidditch, but he had never caught Draco defenceless. Without a shield protecting whatever emotion he was feeling.

Harry was glad, in a way, that he hadn’t known what he was seeing at that moment. Because he would have acted on instinct to gain the upper hand over his rival, and he would have acted in ignorance. And then things would have been a thousand times worse. 

Gradually, without realising it, Harry began making plans to look for Draco. It wasn’t a conscious thing. He would scan newspapers for the name and, when he found it (which often wasn’t very difficult at all), would thoroughly read the article for any indication of Draco’s current whereabouts. As time passed, a new thought kept jumping out – if no one in the wizarding world knew where Draco was, then Draco wasn’t in the wizarding world. Harry didn’t need to be Hermione to figure this puzzle out. There was only one answer. He was living as a muggle.

Finally Harry made a decision. He couldn’t carry on wondering what might have been for the rest of his life. Even though it was approaching 6 months and finding Draco would most likely be difficult, he was going to give it a go. And he hoped above all else that he wasn’t making a mistake.

Making the decision to go was the easy part. Actually getting up the courage to take action took him another couple of weeks. Wondering where he was supposed to start, Harry took inspiration from the one person who had never let a lack on information stand in the way of achieving what she wanted. Hermione. And he decided that the best way to allow Hermione to inspire him was to go directly to source. 

Hermione was working in the official library at the Ministry, surrounded by so many books that Harry doubted even she would be able to read them all. As soon as this comment popped into his mind he shouted himself down, telling himself that this was Hermione and she was probably already well on her way since she’d read the whole Hogwarts library, and it was likely that many of the books there were simply duplicated here. Harry knew that if he attempted to find out what he wanted to know subtly he would arouse even more suspicion than asking outright, and so he opted for the straightforward approach, catching Hermione off guard (or at least, what could be counted as off guard, when she was engrossed in some other work).

*cough* “Er… Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“If I wanted to find someone how would you recommend going about it?”

Harry really didn’t want to have to explain who he wanted to find, he just wanted to get on with the task at hand.

“Well. It would depend on who it was.”

Damn. This was not the answer Harry was looking for. He’d rather hoped that Hermione would just produce a list of instructions and send him off in the right direction.

“How about finding someone from Hogwarts?”

Hermione glanced up at him. “Okay. Well, you could always contact Dumbledore, have you not tried that already? It’s not like he wouldn’t like to hear from you. Other than that, there’s the wizarding directory. Although if someone chooses to be ex-directory it really isn’t going to help. Who are you looking for anyway?”

“Oh” Harry aimed to sound non-committal. “Nobody in particular. I was just curious.”

He took his leave and hurriedly went to track down a copy of the wizarding directory. Contacting Dumbledore to help in track down Draco Malfoy, for some reason, did not seem the most appealing prospect right now. 

Unfortunately for Harry, the WD was no help whatsoever. Not that he had really expected it to be. After coming to the conclusion that Draco was hiding out in the muggle world, could he really expect him to just be sitting there waiting for Harry to look him up? Of course, Harry had harboured a hope that it would be just that easy. As it was, he was faced with the fact that the wizarding world was not going to assist him in tracking down Malfoy. And so, he turned to the world he had hoped to leave behind. This time, however, he would be his own man. No longer under the constant watchful eye of his Aunt and Uncle he stepped out into the world that he had never faced alone.

It wasn’t easy. But nothing ever was. At first, he didn’t know where to start, but rather than racing forwards without considering what he was facing, he took a leaf from Hermione’s book and considered his next moves. He considered what he knew about Draco, as far as personality, finances and likes and dislikes went, and worked from there. Unfortunately all this work amounted to nothing. There was still no trace of his elusive prey. Harry had to finally admit defeat and returned to pick Hermione’s brain.

“How would you find a wizard that didn’t want to be found?”

“A wizard that didn’t want to be found? What are you going on about Harry?…” Pausing for a few seconds, the accomplished witch considered her options. “Well. I guess I’d look to see if they’d use their wand recently and work from there? Why?”

As Hermione turned to look questioningly at Harry, she was faced with an empty space. Of course, if she’d turned around a few seconds earlier she would have seen the type of look that a person gives themselves when they realise that they’ve missed the absolutely most obvious source of information. Which people often do, when they’re not thinking straight.

 

Draco was still happy. He was exceedingly pleased about this, which in turn made him happier. And it all went around and back again making his life as good as it had ever been. And his life had, on occasion, been very good in the past. And he didn’t even have to think about not thinking about Harry Potter. It was almost instinctive now. He was actually humming to himself as he got himself ready for that night. It was New Years’ Eve and Draco was going to a party with Michael and Rachel. The party was fancy dress, and Draco had decided that, for the sake of irony, he would go as a wizard. Since nobody in the muggle world actually believed in them, he relished to opportunity to ‘be himself’. From the back of his wardrobe he dug out the few bits of clothing he’d brought with him. They needed a little work, and he figured that if nobody had to come to find him by now, he was home free, and so to save him time and effort, but not money since he didn’t need to save that, he got out his wand from the cupboard where he’d stored it and was about to give the black and silver robe a little more panache when the buzzer from the door downstairs. Muttering to himself about bad timing, he went over and spoke into the panel.

“Michael? Is that you? You’re a bit early, mate. Come on up, I’ve just got to make a few last minute costume adjustments with my magic wand.” 

Laughing at his own fantastic sense of humour, he buzzed his guest in without waiting for a response and went back to quickly fix his costume, adding a few stars and conjuring up a pointed hat for himself, very much like the one Dumbledore used to wear. Slipping the robe on over his black trousers and shirt he heard a knock on the front door and went over to open it. At which point it would be difficult to describe exactly what happened next. For one thing, Draco opened the door, not to find Michael in a fancy dress costume, but a rather flushed Harry Potter, the last person in the world he’d been expecting, but maybe, deep down in his heart, in that place he wouldn’t let himself admit existed, the person he’d been hoping to see all the months he’d been living here.

“Uuungh.”

It wasn’t exactly the suave greeting Draco had hoped to give Harry on such an occasion. It was rather more like all the air being knocked out of his body than an actual word, and he could feel what little colour he’d gained rapidly draining out of his face. Draco tried again.

“Ha..”

“Hello, Draco.”

Harry grinned. The relief at finally having tracked down his prey flowing through him, and discovering him dressed up like he was going to a Dumbledore lookalike contest made it all so much more worth it. All the confused feelings that had been coursing through him over the past months since Draco’s letter was dropped in front of him had clarified into one though. He felt the same as Draco did. Looking into those grey eyes again sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, and he loved the was that Draco looked far more relaxed and comfortable than he ever had in school. The shadow of family pressure and having to keep up his reputation was gone and was replaced with, for lack of a better word, Harry would have called contentment. 

Now all Harry had to do was get Draco to let him into the flat and let things go from here. And judging by the look on Draco’s face, for once it wasn’t going to be too difficult to manipulate the craft Slytherin. He seemed to have lost all ability to form a sentence. Which only served to boost Harry’s confidence.

“Planning on returning to us?”

“Wha…?”

“You’re outfit.”

“Oh. Erm. Yes. No! No, no I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Returning. I’m going to a New Years’ Party with some friends. It’s fancy dress. You can come, if you want.”

Draco blinked. Where had that last bit come from? Now was not the time to be introducing Harry to his friends, especially since they’d only just had their very first civil conversation in all the time they’d known each other and he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Other than the fact that Harry was on his doorstep, and he suddenly had no desire to attend said party because he wanted to stay right where he was.

“To the party? Ah. Er, well thanks for the offer, but I’d rather hoped just to talk to you? I’ll come back another time.”

Harry made as if to leave. A smart move on his part, considering the reaction he got. Of course, he wasn’t planning on leaving at all. At least not for a good while.

“No!” Draco knew instantly that he didn’t want Harry to go, because he didn’t really believe he’d finally come to find him and if he let him leave, then Harry might disappear and this would all have been a dream. One which was bound to cost him many nights of disturbed sleep. Grabbing Harry’s arm he practically yanked him into the room and slammed the door behind him, just for dramatic effect. Naturally once he had Harry in there with him the room suddenly felt immensely crowded, although this might have been because they were both standing in a very small portion of what, while not being the biggest place ever, was certainly big enough for two men. In fact, it could hold up to ten people, Draco recalled, thinking of one time when he was sure that a crowd that size at least had gathered at his place before going down to the pub. And then he realised that he was standing there considering numbers of people, while holding onto Harry’s arm and staring off into space.

“Draco?”

Draco suddenly felt rather nervous. He didn’t know how to handle this situation. And he always knew how to handle a situation. Only he’d never had to stand face to face with the person he’d confessed undying love to in a letter, and hadn’t seen since, before this occasion. Looking up, he saw two very green eyes watching him, a question in them. And he knew what that question was. Did you mean what you said? 

And slowly, without really understanding what he was doing, Draco nodded his head.

He saw those eyes flash with victory, something he’d seen many times at school, and with something else that he didn’t know but which made his heart race.

And then he was pushed back against the door and Harry was kissing him. 

And it was just right. 

Perfect. 

And Draco knew he wasn’t going to the party. He wasn’t going anywhere. He would be staying right here, and he planned on losing himself in the magnificent dark-haired Gryffindor currently doing unspeakable things to his neck. 

And, taking a deep breath, he gave up on not thinking about Harry Potter.


End file.
